


Prisoner's Games

by remnantmachine



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remnantmachine/pseuds/remnantmachine





	Prisoner's Games

It was dark in the prison block - lights on the wall only providing enough illumination to show the basic shape of the mech on the other side of the bars. Smokescreen stared at the Decepticon silently. Even with the lights so low, the illumination so dim, it was easy to see that the mech was undernourished. There was a clatter somewhere deep in the large frame, and Smokescreen was able to watch heat leaks with the idle tracking of his infrared sensors. Blue paint was scuffed and flaking in some places - especially where dried energon had broken up the paint nanites. "For being a 'Decepticon Elite,' you don't look like you're doing so good, mech."

Soundwave didn't even bother to flick his visor light at the Datsun.

Walking with an exaggerated swagger, Smokescreen approached the still form and leaned against the bars of the prison cell. Soundwave was only a few lengths away now and Smokescreen was able to pick out the dents in his plating from the recent battle now. Dips in shadow where rents had yet to be healed. Purple glossing where energon had leaked and the other had never bothered to clean it. Idle curiosity wondered if Soundwave wore the spillage as a badge of pride. 

A smile pulled at his lips as Smokescreen gestured and spoke, "Seeing as how you and I both know that interrogating you about circumstances would be useless, how about a game instead?" He leaned heavily against the bars, almost leaning through them to tease the other mech. Unchanged oil and dirty grease registered against his sensors, but the scent was nothing new when one is used to dealing in backend alleys and gambling dens for their upraising. "I'm sure nothing else is quite so interesting as me right now."

This time Soundwave moved. Carefully motions that made as little noise as was possible for that large frame. Smokescreen waited, smile still on his lips, as Soundwave came right up to the bars. "Autobot: pathetic."

One large blue hand snapped out and smashed Smokescreen's face between it and the bar closest. Alerts scrolled frantically across Smokescreen's HUD as Soundwave casually increased the pressure on his helm. One rather large alert covered a third of his screen and warned him of imminent memory core cracking if the pressure was not relieved. His own lighter coloured hands scrambled to pull Soundwave off of him, but strength had never been Smokescreen's strong suite. He cast his processor outwards and pulled up strings of mathematical formulas, calculated the fall of his favorite dice in a gravity well, and ran the odds of getting a straight flush using six decks and Altihex card rules in a solitary game.

"Offer: declined." Soundwave finally spat in a wad of static after what seemed like an eternity. He gave one last push against Smokescreen's helm and then released it as quickly as he had grabbed it. 

Grimacing, Smokescreen pulled his helm free and watched as Soundwave retreated. Reality reoriented itself again.

Soundwave the captor walked past the prison bars and out into the Nemesis.

Smokescreen the prisoner was left alone in his small cell.

The swagger he had adopted revealed itself as a hobble; energon continued to leak slowly down his leg from a torn line.

Doorwings low in their hinges, Smokescreen slid down the rusted wall to rest on the floor. His helm thunked back against the bulkhead and he offlined his near-useless optics. The small tracer he had planted on the TIC still glowed faintly against his sensors. Score one for Smokescreen.

Humming subvocally, he dealt himself a digital hand of cards and started planning his next move in this match.


End file.
